A Sense of Propriety
by gh0sty
Summary: A kiss that has been a long time coming. akirai, first kiss.


She is terrified to kiss Akihito.

When they go in for their first kiss, it is quiet and they're in the hallway at school, the sunset's light is coloring the walls orange and making the shadows warm and stark. The light reflects off of her glasses just like it does in the windows, except she blinks at him with curtain eyelashes, and his throat feels very tight in a way he cannot describe without making animalistic noises.

He takes a step forward. She takes half a step back. She wants to ask, "Wh-what are you doing?" but her words fail her and her mouth just hangs open, silent.

His expression is more intent on her than she has ever remembered, she thinks.

Eventually, inevitably, her back hits the wall. Her grip on her bag tightens, the leather squeaking in her small fist. He doesn't even glance at it, he just breathes very slowly, controlling himself, controlling his senses, because he does not want to kiss her so much that he turns into a beast.

In a matter of moments, his height surrounds her. he cranes over her, encompassing her personal space, reminding her of her petiteness and filling her with the vibrancy of his scent — clean laundry, fresh air, shampoo, all clouding over the very distinct and sharp scent that only an attractive boy (and youmu) could have. But she didn't miss it. Oh no, she breathed it in, and her heart felt funny.

He is leaning in. she can't breathe. his mouth approaches hers and she feels blissfully lightheaded and the adrenaline is kicking in hard, she itches to take her glasses off and polish the lenses, and he is so,_ so_ close now, and in the blink of an eye she's turned her cheek and laughing. Giggling nervously. Polishing her glasses.

Akihito's voice is much more steady than she expected, and deeper. It crawls down her skin, as if he's whispering in her ear, even though he is clearly right in front of her.

"What's the matter?" he asks.

"I—I—I—..."

What is she supposed to tell him? How does she bravely admit she has never kissed anyone before now? Her polishing intensifies.

"Kuriyama?"

"I—I've never kissed anyone before!"

Heat fills her cheeks faster than a bullet train and the world spins around her. Fainting seems like a good way out, but there is a matter of pride, so…

She is interrupted by the sound of Akihito's laughter. It is not what she expected; nevertheless, it increases her embarrassment tenfold and she figures maybe now is the time to leave. But she doesn't, because his hand touches her cheek (it's warm and careful and sweet) and directs her attention back to him.

"Do you think that matters?" he counters her, teasing. with his other hand, he takes her glasses from her — sparkling clean, now — and her vision blurs and focuses as he brushes her bangs back and slides them back into place on her face. He untucks the hair that is caught between the frame and her ears, and then adjusts appropriately. To her (dis)pleasure, they are on perfectly.

"H-how irksome," she manages to pout, but there's no real meaningfulness in it. Her blush betrays her anyway.

"Is it?" he quips. She hopes he's forgotten about kissing her. "See, I think kissing you will be wonderful no matter what."

Nope! No luck.

"S-s-s-senpai, y-you don't understand, I... h-how will I be any good?! I-I'll be a clumsy mess! This is unfair!"

"But I want to kiss you like that. I want to have your first kiss. I want to taste all of your uncertainty. I like your clumsiness." She wishes he hadn't put her glasses back on, because she can see how his eyes have turned to a smolder that makes the little hairs on the back of her neck and arms rise. She can see his sincerity with crystal clarity. For a moment, she thinks she wants to kiss him, too. "I've always wanted to kiss a girl in glasses. But, I think I've wanted to kiss you even more than that. Please believe me, Kuriyama. I promise I won't bite." Hopefully.

She can't muster a response. She stands there, gaping at him like a fish, and he slowly registers her surrender with great pleasure. And he leans in again, his palm resting on her cheek, his thumb stroking her temple and his lips curled into a faint smile.

The moment before he reaches her mouth, he murmurs something she doesn't catch, but she feels his breath and then his lips are on hers.

A current runs through her. What she thought was normal sensation before heightened into electric precision, filling every dormant crevice in her body and waking her up to Kanbara Akihito. She feels him go tense in the same way she does, and she hazily questions if he's feeling the same thing she is, and happiness bubbles in her chest at the thought that_ she_ is the one doing this to him.

His lips drift against hers. She tastes him. He doesn't taste like cheap ramen, or tea, he tastes like something good she hasn't ever tried yet. As he breathes out, thick and wavering, his weight shifts against her until he is pressing her against the wall and her glasses are skewing and his fingertips are dragging against her hair.

"Mirai," he half-gasps, half-mumbles against her. Her throat is so stuck she can't reply. His eyes are muddled and glassy, both golden and scarlet, and a deep sensation plummets to the pit of her stomach.

He resumes kissing her with fervor. He has wanted to kiss her for ages, truthfully, and it feels like a century rather than some months. but the longer he kisses her, the more it feels like some vacant space in him is filling itself with her, completing him and leaving him more starving than he was in the first place. Desperate and yearning for more, he plucks up the courage and tries not to think too much before parting his lips and gently taking the smallest fraction of her bottom lip between them, sucking on it for half of a second.

She bucks against him and makes a sound that's somewhere between a cry and a groan but definitely not in a bad way. His knees nearly buckle and his blood pulsates. To all disbelief, she parts her lips, panting lightly, and he dives in, tongue inviting itself into her mouth. He waits to see if she protests, but she only seems to melt in his arms, and he gladly devours her.

Crazed, unsanctimonious thoughts enter his mind. Things he'd thought of before, but only in the dark of night, completely alone.

But Akihito retains his sense of propriety. It takes everything — everything — in him to move his hands down to her shoulders, squeezing softly, before pulling away with incredible reluctance, but he does it. His chest is heaving as he tries to catch his breath, and his tongue is running over his lips in an effort to catch the remaining taste of the girl of his dreams, and he blinks a few times as he regains his composure. when he fully sees again, he catches a glimpse of his reflection in her glasses — his eyes were vermilion in the center and blackened around the edges, and his heart froze until Kuriyama took a long, shuddering breath of air and looked up at him from under her lashes, dazed and fluttering.

"Ummm," she said, wobbling. He held onto her securely. He didn't give her any more space — he didn't think he could be another inch from her without losing his mind.

She was everything. Everything right in the world. She was home, and springtime, and apple pie, and daisies, and beautiful, and perfect in red glasses.

"You're perfect," he mumbled, though he didn't mean to. She blinked. "Wh-what?" She missed what he said, mind still whirling from their intimacy.

So, he reiterated, smiling.

"You're a very good kisser."

She tried to speak, really, but only redness filled her cheeks and they puffed out and she buried her face in his sweater.


End file.
